


Like carrying water in my hands

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Young Allies (Marvel)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/F, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anya still has the last voicemail Rikki ever left her, and the last text Rikki ever sent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like carrying water in my hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beardsley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beardsley/gifts).



> Thanks so much to Lanyon for the speedy once-over, and to Snacky for the reassurances.

It's not that Anya doesn't _know_ Rikki is gone. She still has the last voicemail Rikki ever left her ( Hey, do you wanna go for ice cream after school?) and the last text Rikki ever sent her (Train's late. Stupid D. See you soon. <3.), and the timestamps on both make it very clear that it's been months of radio silence that'll never be broken again. Anya can't bring herself to erase them, though. She doesn't want to forget the sound of Rikki's voice, the curve of her face, the way her hair shone red as fire in the sunlight, but it was always so soft to the touch. She doesn't want to forget what it was like to have a friend, a girlfriend, a _partner_. To know someone had her back, would go high when she went low. 

She occasionally takes punches she wouldn't have, if Rikki'd been there. Shouldn't have, if Anya hadn't been expecting her to be there. She presses those bruises later, painful reminders to pay more attention (painful reminders to never forget, Rikki's gone and she's not coming back).

She still expects to hear Rikki's voice sometimes, the joyful one she used when they were punching bad guys. Rikki hadn't had a lot of joy in her life, but Anya's pretty sure she was the source of a lot of it (she's pretty sure she and Steve and punching bad guys were Rikki's favorite things). She hugs that to herself on the days when it's too hard, when she wakes up alone and has to make it through the day dealing with people who don't _know_ what Anya's lost, or who know but they don't _understand_.

Anya doesn't have many friends left--she was never invited to join the Young Avengers, and Eli was mostly Rikki's friend--and even fewer who knew she and Rikki were together. Sometimes, she wants to tell everyone, make them realize what an awesome person Rikki was and how lucky Anya was to know her, and how she died to save the world, but since she's not Captain America, and almost no one knows she was ever Bucky or Nomad, she can't. 

And even if she could, even if they were all her secrets to tell, the words lodge in her chest, in her throat, until she feels like she's going to choke on them, and it hurts to eat, to breathe, to do anything but fight, because that's what Rikki would have wanted her to do, would have laughed and punched her shoulder and told her to stop moping around like a loser. Rikki had lost everything, but she still managed to make something new for herself, and Anya doesn't know how she did, doesn't know why she didn't ask, but there are so many things she didn't ask when she had the chance, and now she never will again.

There are so many things she'll never get to do again. She'll never spend the night fighting back to back with Rikki, and then go to the diner for waffles and have to scrounge for cash to pay the bill, laughing as Rikki counted it out in singles and dimes, hoping there was enough to cover the tip. They'll never trade sticky, maple-syrup flavored kisses under the yellow sodium lights around the warehouse, or play tag across the rooftops again. Anya always won, but Rikki never seemed to mind losing once Anya had her splayed out on the tarpaper roof, hands up under her shirt or down in her jeans.

Anya cries sometimes now when she jerks off, because she'll never have Rikki's hands on her body again, and if that's not the wrongest thing in the universe, she's doesn't want to know what is. 

She tries to talk to Carol, but Carol's got her own shit going on, and she's more like Rikki anyway--she'd rather punch bad guys than talk about feelings, and sometimes that's what Anya needs, but sometimes it's not.

She doesn't really know Captain America, either one, and she doesn't think she'd be able to talk to either of them without sobbing her eyes out or screaming about the unfairness of it all, so it's probably better that she can't talk to them.

Spider-Man tries to help, but when he's nice to her now, it makes her eyes well up, and that just doesn't work with the mask. He tells her he's around if she wants to talk, but he understands if she doesn't. He squeezes her shoulder before he swings away, and she watches him go through tears that make him all blurry. 

She still swings by the warehouse where Rikki used to sleep. She tries not to feel bad about how long it took her to realize Rikki was not only alone, but homeless. She wishes she'd paid more attention. She wishes they'd had more time.

"It's not fair," she says the first time she sees the Black Widow after it happens. 

"I know," the Black Widow says. 

"Captain America came back. The first Bucky came back. Why can't Rikki come back?"

"I don't know. That's not how it works."

"I hate it." She's angry-crying now, and she has to push up her mask because she feels like she's going to drown. Maybe she wants to drown. Maybe that would be easier. Maybe she would finally stop feeling like she's going to go under at any moment and no one else even knows, let alone cares.

"I know." Natasha doesn't offer any explanations or excuses. She doesn't tell Anya that she's not the only one who's lost someone, as if it's a competition, or that Rikki wouldn't want her to feel this way. Anya knows Rikki would want her to be happy, but she also knows Rikki understood anger, understood loss, better than anyone should ever have to. "I'm sure if she could, she would."

That makes Anya cry harder, so hard that she doesn't even flinch away when Natasha puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes once, gently, while she sobs.

When she's done (she has to wipe her face on her sleeve, which would be the most embarrassing thing ever except she's just completely lost it in front of the Black Widow, so she's just going to give up on having dignity for a while), Natasha gives her a small smile and another gentle squeeze. "Steve would like to talk with you, when you're ready."

Anya looks up, surprised. "Really?"

"He misses her, too."

Anya sniffs. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Any time."

"Okay, then. I'm sure he'll be in touch."

"Okay." Anya considers a quip about the Cap signal, not sure how it would go over, and Natasha disappears while she's still thinking it over. That seems to be happening to her a lot lately.

She takes a deep breath and heads towards home. For the first time since Rikki died, she's looking forward to something.

end

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Grief" by Stephen Dobyns.


End file.
